Welcome to the Tartarus.
Crying is optional. I don't even fukcing care anymore.

You've probably been here for a while, but are only just now getting the tour. You joined REKT. Good for you. Maybe you decided you didn't want to be set up for execution, maybe you got tricked into it, maybe you're having second thoughts - it all means shit to me and I'm not some clichéd bartender sitting around to hear your life story. Now you actually get treated like a person - that's quite an achievement, and a lot more than I'd be willing to give you.

If you're here, then you're probably a snivelling wimp that couldn't keep out of trouble. Somebody caught you, packaged you up, and shipped you to the Tartarus. We get criminals from all over the galaxy - they pay us fees and we get rid of their problems - problems like you. As the largest prison ship ever built, we have a capacity of thirty million, so there's no shortage of room... at least until there's a shortage of room. At that point we'll exterminate you bastards quicker than you can bat an eye.

However... if you can hear my voice, then you've also chosen to participate in the REKT program. We'll grant you actual quarters, something vaguely resembling a meal, and freedom to roam several predesignated areas of the ship - which is probably a lot more than you deserve. In exchange we ship you off in deathtraps and let some random alien base blow the shit out of you. Get the shit blown out of you ten times, and you can be on your merry way.

Your mission hasn't come yet - or maybe it has, and you're just waiting for the next one. You can wander wherever the hell you please, so long as you don't try to escape. There are absolutely no weapons, and if you try to wander down the wrong hallway, we'll slice and dice you with lasers til you're nothing but a pile of goo. And then probably feed you to something, but we'll keep your brain and stick you in a robot. If anything, our lasers are accurate. And possibly a little overkill.

Where you are right now, dumbass. Just look around. Tons of seating, grimy food, no privacy. Welcome to the mess hall - one of the galaxy's largest dining rooms. There are no waterfalls - we're not here to make you happy - but if you're hungry, it's a 24 hour cafeteria and perfect meeting place for you to talk to each other and whatever the hell else you dumb shits do while you eat.

There are no actual weapons or pieces of equipment of any type at the armory. This is a prison ship, retard. Instead, you can talk to our requisition officers and they'll help you find the equipment you need - and they know a hell of a lot more about this stuff than I do. They're also armed, so if you try anything funny, you'll have a hole in yourself before you can scream.

A little bit better than standard prison cells. We'll give you a room of your own, a bed, and maybe, if you're lucky, a window. There's still no form of entertainment in your room, and all of it's made of carbon fiber. You can hang yourself if you want - we'll just bring you back - but you won't find anything much good for making a useful weapon. Just going to get that out of the way. If anybody tries, I swear I'll fukcing electrocute the floor out from under you, and I am always watching.

The Rec Area is a fairly large gym-type room featuring pretty metal pillars. If it were up to me, that'd be all that was there, because you pieces of crap sure as hell don't deserve any better. Hell, if it were up to me, you'd all be swept out an airlock as soon as you boarded this ship. Unfortunately, it's not, and there are a number of different physical and mental activities you can do, ranging from volleyball to chess to video games. Try not to break your limbs. Often a good place to go if you're dueling someone - injuries are very real here.

If you think you aren't going to wind up here sometime in the next year, you're fooling yourself. Unlike most infirmaries, we specialize in traditional medicine and robotics. If you lose a limb, we'll fix it. If you try to lose everything up to your brain, we'll replace it. You're not getting out of here that easy. You'll be accompanied by armed guards while you're here; grabbing a scalpel to fight your way out isn't an option, so please don't. You'll just wind up making more work for our doctors. We actually pay them.

It's possible to earn a decent amount of credits by applying to Neural Enhancement Research and Development, but be forewarned that the testing could leave you severely mentally impaired.

The hangars are strictly off-limits except for if you have an immediate mission. We'll keep a close eye on who you are, and if your name hasn't been called, we'll be shipping you back to the infirmary in a little box. Your personal CASKET is kept here, and if you want to upgrade it, you'd better go to the armory. Don't worry, though - when it's your turn to get bisected, charred and decapitated, I'll let you know.

You aren't allowed to research anything here. Sorry, it just doesn't work that way, and I'm so tired of hearing that question that I will summarily keelhaul the next fool that dares ask. You can survey a few random pieces of future technology, though, or perhaps make some suggestions for shit we can attach to your arms or ship. If you want, you can test out prototypes in exchange for credits, but be forewarned - there's a fairly decent chance that you'll wind up injured or suffer brain damage. Test subjects come cheap, and our safety precautions are limited to our scientists.

It's possible to earn a few credits by applying to the Prototypical Understanding and Logistics Program, but be forewarned that the testing could leave you severely physically impaired.

Here, we let you choose a custom loadout for your CASKET and put you in simulated battle against various enemies. You can come in alone or with friends; each combat simulator cell can support up to five concurrent occupants. It's a perfect place to go to practice your last words. I've heard some fairly good ones in my time, and it's always best if yours are unique - though I doubt any of you shits are competent enough to manage any degree of originality. You can customize the battle location however you want, and we'll set it up for you. Note that while you will not experience G-forces during this exercise, we will still simulate grayout and redout if you pull excessive Gs. For the majority of you: that means if you turn too tight, you lose.

A large room we don't really maintain, made to record the deaths of scumbags we don't really care about - like you, for instance. For some bizarre reason, it's often frequented by gang members. Why anyone would bother coming here, I have no idea, but it's the only place in the galaxy that will have any records of this person's death, so I guess if you're trying to work on your family tree or something - sure. Whatever. I don't see the point, but hey - your funeral.

NOTE: If you die, nobody's giving you a funeral, so shove off and leave me alone about it.

The Briefing Room is where you go when I call your asses in from the Mess Hall, or wherever you happen to be. We'll be calling you in one troop at a time. Remember that it's a first-come first-serve basis. If you don't come, you miss the mission. If you miss three missions, we send you back to the main prison and you'll die within the year. Your choice.

The Briefing Room is actually a pretty posh place - it's a lot better than the rest of this crapfest. Comfy chairs, big screens, large tables for all the squads in the troop to sit at and discuss how you're going to do the mission. There's also some slight amount of better-quality food. If you don't come, you're an idiot - but then, you're all idiots anyway.

There's a large portion of the ship that is as yet undeveloped, and I'm required by those up-top to mention that we're taking suggestions. Naturally, I'd suggest a gas chamber or firing range, but I think this is supposed to be for the benefit of whatever fukctards come through here. But you know what - I don't even care. Maybe they'll build another computer and I can finally get some peace and quiet. You know how aggravating it is to listen to the same retarded assholes ask the same retarded questions night and day, without a break? I hope we get attacked by aliens and they kill all of you.

Last edited by Talvieno on Mon Jun 22, 2015 12:10 pm, edited 11 times in total.

This works the exact same way as the REKT thread, except it'll probably move faster because it won't matter if people don't post unless they're interacting with each other. You start out in the mess hall, and don't really need to know the layout of the ship - just walk to the infirmary and I'll take you there. It uses your stats and skills too - you could potentially get yourself injured playing hockey if you aren't agile enough, so watch it.

You only post here if you haven't started your first mission, or if you're between missions. That's to keep things clear. Out of character ((double parentheses)) get used too.

The idea behind it is for people to still have stuff to do if they're waiting for a turn. There is no gaining skill points here. That only comes from completing actual missions.

Allow me to emphasize: The Tartarus is not for gaining skills or credits. That's for the missions. Consider this coming to a little town with an inn. You heal up here, you talk to townsfolk, maybe do a little here and there for roleplaying - but the biggest part of everything you gain will come from missions.

So what's the point?

The point is - the players who are in missions right now - the veterans - are watching you. They're the ones who decide whether or not they want you in their squad. They have their eyes open, and if they think you'd make a good squadmate, they can add you to their squad for the next mission. In the VR Combat Simulator, you can also try out new gear combinations, go toe-to-toe with fellow inmates, or team up to take on large masses of enemies.

EDIT: I'll also give you quest leads on occasion. THEY WILL BE SUBTLE. Keep an eye out for them. If you finish them, I'll award you with something based on how good I think your efforts were - or not. It all depends on your choices and the story.

List of the Fallen:
Ursula ’Watt’ Schöner - roasted by the Chilendorn Pulsar and blown up by a 1/8 kiloton nuke
Goatman - killed by Dinosawer after attempting to murder his squadmates

Alcazabedabra wrote:Bod's a coward. But he's also smart enough to be prudent. He wants to know what he'll have with him on a mission.

Bod walks to the Armory

Bod asks the Quartermaster, "So, uh... what's the standard equipment that I'll be carrying along? Do I have an EVA tether? Duct tape? How about a fire extinguisher?"

After standing in the center of the milling crowd for a moment, you sigh and start out for the armory. It's a bit of a walk, but before long, you find yourself there... and there's no line. In fact, there's a great number of little windows where you can talk to personnel - thick glass windows, likely bulletproof. They certainly look like it. Walking up to one of them, you ask about the equipment you'll be carrying along.

The man is quick to respond. "You have an EVA tether, yes - it's coiled up against the front of your seat, and there's a little hook on your seat that you can attach it to. The other end attaches to a few loops on your suit. It's cheap, but it'll hold unless you try to snap it.

As to duct tape... let me check." The man brings up his holocomputer and looks through it. "Name?"

"Bod," you reply. "Bod Pol."

He types the name in. A few seconds later, he nods. "Yeah, it looks like you bought a repair kit - there's a couple rolls of duct tape in there. As to the fire extinguisher - no. Extinguishing fires is simple - seal your suit and pump the air out of the cockpit. It'll hardly take any time at all. If you really want one, though," he adds, eyeing you carefully, "I can get one for you... for a price."

Talvieno wrote:
After standing in the center of the milling crowd for a moment, you sigh and start out for the armory. It's a bit of a walk, but before long, you find yourself there... and there's no line. In fact, there's a great number of little windows where you can talk to personnel - thick glass windows, likely bulletproof. They certainly look like it. Walking up to one of them, you ask about the equipment you'll be carrying along.

The man is quick to respond. "You have an EVA tether, yes - it's coiled up against the front of your seat, and there's a little hook on your seat that you can attach it to. The other end attaches to a few loops on your suit. It's cheap, but it'll hold unless you try to snap it.

As to duct tape... let me check." The man brings up his holocomputer and looks through it. "Name?"

"Bod," you reply. "Bod Pol."

He types the name in. A few seconds later, he nods. "Yeah, it looks like you bought a repair kit - there's a couple rolls of duct tape in there. As to the fire extinguisher - no. Extinguishing fires is simple - seal your suit and pump the air out of the cockpit. It'll hardly take any time at all. If you really want one, though," he adds, eyeing you carefully, "I can get one for you... for a price."

Bod thanks the Quartermaster, thinks for a moment, and then asks another question,

"What if I want to program commands into my CASKET? Do you have a manual that gives the technical specifications for the hardware? Also, I might need a manual on scripting syntax, I'm not sure what language these machines speak."

Bod remembers Baxian spacecraft -- more like flying robots than like something flown by a pilot. A "pilot" by Baxian standards was a clever programmer, who built libraries of pre-programmed flight maneuvers and keyed these like macros.

"And, maybe, could I have a portable computer to carry around the ship? Is that something you can issue to me?"

Alcazabedabra wrote:Bod thanks the Quartermaster, thinks for a moment, and then asks another question,

"What if I want to program commands into my CASKET? Do you have a manual that gives the technical specifications for the hardware? Also, I might need a manual on scripting syntax, I'm not sure what language these machines speak."

Bod remembers Baxian spacecraft -- more like flying robots than like something flown by a pilot. A "pilot" by Baxian standards was a clever programmer, who built libraries of pre-programmed flight maneuvers and keyed these like macros.

"And, maybe, could I have a portable computer to carry around the ship? Is that something you can issue to me?"

"Your hacking module comes preinstalled," he says, looking a little disappointed that you ignored his offer. Then, he glances back at the screen. "Your CASKET's hacking systems are a little on the cheap side, and your computer is standard. You'll be able to program stuff in, but you may find some glitches or crashes here and there. As to scripting syntax... well, I'll have some manuals sent to your quarters for you to read in your spare time." He quickly types a few commands in.

While he works, you ask if you might have a portable computer too.

This is also quick to get a response. "Your standard-issue backpack comes with a PDA in it - I suppose that's as close to a portable computer as you'll get. It's a little touchscreen computer that can interface with your CASKET and record data, and it's just small enough to fit in your pocket - if you have large pockets." He looks up at you and eyes your baxian face with what might be a little prejudice.

Idunno wrote:Go to armoury. See if I can't get something to rearrange my internals. See if I can't get some material to set up the universe's most awesome game of REKT.

Without a moment's hesitation, you turn on your heel and start towards the armory. You've de-orbited space stations before - you'll be damned if you can't find a few good parts here to salvage.

The Armory is a wall with dozens of little bulletproof windows where you can talk to personnel. Meatbags, somewhat inferior to you - and they've lived far shorter. Walking up to one of them - a young woman with a brown ponytail - you ask for something to rearrange your internals.

She looks at you quizzically. "Rearrange your... what? No, no - I don't think -"

You interrupt her with an enthusiastic outburst. "I need some material to set up the universe's most awesome game of REKT!"

Your interruption stops her short. She stares at you blankly for a moment, and then raises an eyebrow. "Are you okay?" she asks worriedly. "You don't seem... well... hmm. Were you supposed to get into the REKT program at all? This isn't a game..."

"Name?" she asks. You point at the serial number on your shoulder and she starts searching through her computer. "It looks like you already requested a blowtorch in your REKT sign-up form, but I could give you as second one in place of your gauss rifle if you really want it. As to a welder, that comes standard in a repair kit or advanced repair kit, which are two and three credits each... and you seem to have used all of yours."

Talvieno wrote:
"Your hacking module comes preinstalled," he says, looking a little disappointed that you ignored his offer. Then, he glances back at the screen. "Your CASKET's hacking systems are a little on the cheap side, and your computer is standard. You'll be able to program stuff in, but you may find some glitches or crashes here and there. As to scripting syntax... well, I'll have some manuals sent to your quarters for you to read in your spare time." He quickly types a few commands in.

While he works, you ask if you might have a portable computer too.

This is also quick to get a response. "Your standard-issue backpack comes with a PDA in it - I suppose that's as close to a portable computer as you'll get. It's a little touchscreen computer that can interface with your CASKET and record data, and it's just small enough to fit in your pocket - if you have large pockets." He looks up at you and eyes your baxian face with what might be a little prejudice.

Bod's survival-oriented brain wakes up, after a moment, to the fact that he'd just been offered an under-the-table deal by this Quartermaster.

He mentally files away the data and says to him, "Hey. You said something, there... that you'd slip me a fire extinguisher... for a price."

Bod realizes that having a friend on the "outside" is his best bet for getting through this REKT assignment alive.

"I tell you what, I'll take you up on that. As a matter of fact, how does a guy earn a few extra credits around here? You name it, I'll see what I can do."

"Name?" she asks. You point at the serial number on your shoulder and she starts searching through her computer. "It looks like you already requested a blowtorch in your REKT sign-up form, but I could give you as second one in place of your gauss rifle if you really want it. As to a welder, that comes standard in a repair kit or advanced repair kit, which are two and three credits each... and you seem to have used all of yours."

"I meant my blowtorch. So that I can rearrange my internals."

The results of logic, of natural progression? Boring! An expected result? Dull! An obvious next step? Pfui! Where is the fun in that? A dream may soothe, but our nightmares make us run!

Alcazabedabra wrote:Bod's survival-oriented brain wakes up, after a moment, to the fact that he'd just been offered an under-the-table deal by this Quartermaster.

He mentally files away the data and says to him, "Hey. You said something, there... that you'd slip me a fire extinguisher... for a price."

Bod realizes that having a friend on the "outside" is his best bet for getting through this REKT assignment alive.

"I tell you what, I'll take you up on that. As a matter of fact, how does a guy earn a few extra credits around here? You name it, I'll see what I can do."

The man grins when you ask about the fire extinguisher again, and lowers his voice. "Yeah, I could slip one into your cockpit. It's non-standard, you know, but I could get you something top-of-the-line. My pal Don over there -" he gives a quick, general nod to his left - "he managed to slip somebody a horn recently - high quality, too. We have contacts... It's not strictly legal, but you know... You don't rat me, I won't you. It'd be an extra credit, though."

You seem to have gotten lucky and found someone willing to deal shadily, so you smile to let him know you're on his side. Then ask him if there are any ways to earn any extra credits.

"Y'know, I might have a couple ways," he says, looking behind you to make sure nobody's listening. Then, he reaches under his desk, and slides a pack of cards and five dice out under the window towards you. "Take this for starters - gambling is legal, and the guards don't ask where you get this stuff from. Lot of those gangsters out there are cheaters, though - it might be good to find someone like you." The cards are a standard deck, and the dice red, translucent casino dice. They appear to be fairly high quality.

"As to what else you can do, well..." he shrugs. "There isn't much, but you can definitely exchange parts and bargain with other members."

((also, yes, I'm rolling charisma here))

Idunno wrote:

Talvieno wrote:

Idunno wrote:"Just give a blowtorch and a welder."

"Name?" she asks. You point at the serial number on your shoulder and she starts searching through her computer. "It looks like you already requested a blowtorch in your REKT sign-up form, but I could give you as second one in place of your gauss rifle if you really want it. As to a welder, that comes standard in a repair kit or advanced repair kit, which are two and three credits each... and you seem to have used all of yours."

"I meant my blowtorch. So that I can rearrange my internals."

"Oh, it's your blowtorch," the woman says, leaning back in her seat. "Well, your blowtorch probably got confiscated and thrown out, I'm sorry to say..." She doesn't look all that willing to help you. "I can't give you anything anyway - the items you get at the armory are only for missions - we don't give you them until then." She looks worried, but you can't quite pin down why.

Jugjugmleep may not have become what his creators intended, but Jugjugmleep still has some parts of his mind motivated to survive, hunt, survive, hunt, no matter what.
Which really creeps him out, so he decides to calm his emotions by paying a visit to the armory and asking someone for a way to earn credits without going on a mission, as that would increase his chances of survival.

"Jugjugmleepmleepjugmleepmleepjugjugjugjugmleepjugjugmleepjleeepmlugjugmleepjugmleep." quietly. He doesn't like the... thing that is robotic which stands at another window.

Translation:"Hi. I need a way to earn credits without going on missions. Any methods or suggestions that you know of?"

Edit: ((Actually, Tal, how would you roll gambling? Intuition? And if you want to sell something, do you sell it back to the armory, or to other players for a reduced price? (I don't see how they'd accept it otherwise.) ))

Destruction is never precise, Creation is a thought, Time is an illusion, and Chaos and Order are one and the same.